Over the years, working with my son, Sam, we’ve created a handful of on-demand books for artists. The first project, nearly a decade ago, was Faith in Winter, a collection of poetry by Edward Hyland. Edward dedicated his life to supporting developmentally disabled individuals, but he also had a gift for poetry. The book was created as Edward confronted a terminal illness, and was completed in time for him to see it.
More recently, we’ve collaborated with three photographers, each navigating significant life challenges, to help them bring their work to life in book form. These on-demand projects aren’t conventionally mass-produced books; instead, they’re created one copy at a time.
Our latest on-demand project is The Shaking Off by James Lukoski. By way of introducing you to this book, we’re including the postscript:
I first came to know Jim Lukoski in 1979 when I was a teacher, he a student at ICP. He was good-looking, hard-living, had a great sense of humor. Over the next decade, we had a go at being roommates, accompanied each other on assignments, fostered a true, if at times troubled friendship. My fondest memory of Jim is his treatment of my first wife, Dorothea. When Dorrie was most ravaged by cancer, he would make her laugh, remind her that she was beautiful.
It’s been long years since Jim passed away. What prompted me to produce this book now? Getting old, and more aware than ever that I can’t be putting things off. Truth is, I’ve never gotten out of my head a brief talk I had with the editor of a photography website a few days after Jim died. I phoned, asking if it might be possible to post a brief note about Jim on his blog. The editor asked me, “What’s his story?” I explained that Jim had been a courageous and outspoken photojournalist, that his coverage of the first Intifada in Gaza proved exceptional. But if he required a wider-reaching theme for a story, he might consider that Jim was representative of multitudes of creative people, who after gaining some recognition, find themselves replaceable, out-of-date, out-of-style, unable to compete in this hard-driving world. They somehow lose their way. I remember that this editor was quiet for maybe five seconds before blurting out, “That’s no story.”
